The White Cane
by HOUSEaholic
Summary: He dared not speak, to cry out from the prison he was held captive in for silence was his solace and he wallowed in it day after day until he could pity himself no more... Chapter 5 up!
1. A Change Of Plans

His fingers were his eyes now, his only connection to the world it seemed. That and his hearing except for the fact that the astonishingly loud silence roared in his ears and masked the everyday noises, making them muffled and indistinguishable. But the awesome quiet was not the worst of it, no. The darkness that enveloped him was pitch black and lonely… loneliness had grown very familiar to him in the past months. Helpless, all he could do was sit and drown in the blankness of the covering that fell over his eyes and robbed him of the light. He dared not speak, to cry out from the prison he was held captive in for silence was his solace and he wallowed in it day after day until he could pity himself no more.

This was how the goddess found him, her soft hands taking his, her quiet voice breaking through the barrier his mind had created and coming in clear as day. She was beautiful, but he could no longer see her beauty or look into the deep brown eyes that used to dance in the light of the moon. He pined for the night, when she came to him in his dreams, floating on wisps of clouds like an angel. Her hand would brush his gently and he would turn slowly, taking in her very essence before touching her cheek. As glorious a vision as it was, a sense of guilt always clouded the dream for her eyes were always unsettling. They shined not with love, but with deep sadness. Awaking in a cold sweat, his thoughts screamed guilty accusations. He felt that he was causing her much pain and sorrow and yet he waited on pins and needles, praying that she not leave.

Fondly, he remembered how she had loved the snow, its pure white blanket covering the ground. Many times, he had taken her to the park to just sit and take in its beauty. It was there he had proposed to her, kneeling down on the cold ground with trembling hands and spilling words of love from his mouth like a waterfall. Holding his breath he had waited, watching her delicate breaths form smoke in the crisp air, as the tears rolled down her cheeks. And then she nodded, barely getting the answer out between joyous sobs. Grasping her hand in his, he gently pulled her glove down and tucked it into his pocket for safekeeping. Shivering, her warm skin touching his and sending chills up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold, he slipped on the ring. It fit beautifully and he spun her around in a tight embrace, kissing her softly as the snow fell around them. That had been four long months ago, before the wedding plans were put on hold, before the accident changed everything.

He could remember it all so very clearly but no amount of remembering would change what had been done. His heart was broken and his soul bruised. In time, he theorized, it would heal and his life would be almost whole again but no amount of medicine could fix the damage done to his body. He was past denial now, the four months of blackness could not be passed off as coincidence and he had stopped hoping for a miracle cure long ago. No, now he needed to learn to accept the darkness as part of his life, he needed to move on…

For Robert Chase was blind.


	2. Bitter Apathy

The alarm rang shrill and loud through her dreams, awaking her from the refreshing break from the world that sleep provided, bringing her back to reality. Dragging herself out of her bed she headed straight for the shower, leaning her pajamas in a puddle on the floor. Letting the hot water flow over her body, she closed her eyes and sighed. It had been almost four months since her fiancé had been robbed of his sight. Four agonizing months in which she had watched him disappear into a shell of the person he used to be.

Spreading shaving cream across her legs, she stared at the white foam as it multiplied slowly like some sort of growth. It reminded her of the way the snow multiplied over the ground, hiding the dirty and battered grass. The snow that had once chilled her skin, but never bothered her because she was with him and he with her and they were in love. Snow that had fallen in clumps as she watched him get on one knee, felt him slide her glove off and slip the diamond on her finger.

She shivered suddenly, despite the moist heat of the shower and her hand slipped, the blade drawing a mark sharply through the cream and down her calf. Red dripped down her leg, mixing with the soapy foam and stinging much less than it should have. Funny she thought, how it didn't even hurt anymore. She was so numb in spirit and body that it didn't even register for a moment that she had cut herself. Blankly, she watched the little trickle of color, stark in contrast against the pureness of the white.

Red… the color of love, the color of blood that brought life to the body. Red against white like the stain across the snow. White like his pale skin that grew colder and colder as they waited for help and the red like the blood that seeped through her favorite jacket as she cradled his head. Red and white, the colors of the flashing lights atop the ambulance that finally came after what seemed like hours.

Red and white, red and white, red and white...

The two colors swirled before her eyes, blending, mixing and making pink. Pink, the color of little girls rooms and baby dolls. Pink like unicorns and fairies that danced in little girls heads. She wanted to be a little girl again, to only worry about trivial things and dream of the prince charming that she would marry. Back when the dreams ended in happily-ever after and she would never even think that there was any other way that things could unfold.

Turning off the water she fell to her knees on the floor of the shower, sobbing uncontrollably. Her breath came in heavy gasps like a stallion that had been running in the wintry woods. The long tendrils of her hair curled and clung to her damp skin as a caustic wave of emotion swept over her. She wept until she could breathe no more and then leaned against the side of the tub, head resting on the cool porcelain. With her hand she pulled aside the shower curtain and sucked in cool air that filled her aching lungs and cooled her flushed face.

When her tears ceased, she stood shakily and stepped out of the shower, basking in the rush of cold air that whooshed against her skin. Methodically, she took a towel from the closet, wrapped it around herself, and hastily combed out her hair. Splashing cold water on her face, she inspected herself in the mirror. A stranger stared back at her, dark spots under red-rimmed eyes bloodshot from crying. Looking away, she retreated to her room fumbling through the drawers for anything comfortable to wear. Shimmying into a clean pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater, she dressed quickly before searching for her keys.

She didn't bother with makeup, it didn't matter anymore to her. She knew that he couldn't tell the difference and why bother pleasing anyone else. Besides, the nurses at the rehabilitation center hardly paid attention to the fact that she was there. The past few months had led her to be withdrawn, apathetic. She simply didn't feel the need to do anything for herself. She rationalized her lack of interest by insisting that Robert was more important.

This was how she lived now, numbly going through the motions of the day and pretending that things were alright. Every day, driving to the rehabilitation center to see him with a fake smile on her face. Constantly reassuring him that things were only going to get better but then going home only to break down alone and afraid. Today was to be the same as every other day and she didn't even attempt to break out of the mindless routine that kept her hostage. Instead, she gave in, took her keys, and went to the car once again…


	3. Why are you lying?

The nurse was young, pretty. Her blonde hair spilled casually across her forehead in the form of side swept bangs. Good features he thought, admiring her high cheekbones and soft jaw line as he approached her. Her head was bent as she pored over the chart she had extracted from the holder outside Chase's door. She looked up a him expectantly just before he reached her, the squeaking of his wet shoes coming to an abrupt halt.

"Um, do you know anything about Robert Chase…" He faltered in his speech, unsure of what to say. His often present rhetoric seemed to vanish for reasons he could not explain. "Has he… Is there any sort of program he's enrolled in. Like, uh, group therapy or something." She shook her head and looked down at the file again scribbling notes on it. "Oh, is there a process you have to go through. Do you have to sign up or something? " She shook her head. "No?"

"That's what I'm saying, no sign-ups. No programs." He was surprised at her reaction. Slamming the folder shut, she haughtily put it back into the holder. "Excuse me." Curtly, she turned on heel and marched down a the hall way disappearing around a corner.

Slightly bewildered, Wilson peeked around the doorframe into the tiny room. Shades drawn, shadows enveloped the walls. In the corner lay the sleeping form of Robert Chase sprawled out across a plain, metal framed bed. His covers half-kicked off, Wilson could see even in the dim light that Chase had lost weight.

Pulling his eyes and thoughts away, he turned back to the rack holding the folder marked _Chase, Robert_ in neat script. Looking over his shoulder, he made sure that nobody was around before tentatively reached for it. His phone rang suddenly and he almost dropped the folder, startled at the noise. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and flipped it open.

"What do you want House?" Waiting for a reply, Wilson opened the file one-handed, holding the phone to his ear with his free hand

"Find anything?" He sighed, balancing the phone oh his shoulder and flipping through the pages.

"Just a nurse with an attitude problem. Everything else seems to be normal except it's a weird normal…"

"Weird how?"

"It's… empty. There's like nobody here. No nurses at the front desk, no doctors running around. Most of the patients are fast asleep. It's like a ghost town or something." There was a long pause on the other end and Wilson knew House was thinking. "What are you thinking House?"

"Not busy isn't normal. It's abnormal. I told you something was up." Wilson listened, running his eyes down the page. The first few pages were just basic information which was followed by Chase's records from Princeton Plainsboro. He scanned them quickly, his attention drifting from House to the page.

"Wilson?"

"Yeah, I'm still here."

"Are you looking at the file?" House seemed to pick up on his lack of participation in the conversation.

"Yeah…" Wilson stared at the notes in front of him, mind spinning with memories from the night of the accident.

"Wilson, you have to focus. We can't help him if we don't find out what's going on."

"Nothing's going on House. I don't know what your even looking for."

"Anything different, unusual." Listening to House, Wilson grew impatient for reasons he could not understand.

"Why do you want something to be wrong so badly?!?" His outburst was met with another long silence before House replied.

"How's Chase?"

"I haven't gone into his room. He's sleeping." This was true except that it wasn't the only reason he didn't dare enter. Wilson found it rather awkward to be in the same room as the blind man who had once been a colleague.

"How much is he sleeping a day?"

"How am I supp-"

"See if they wrote it down. It's a rehab center for the newly blind. They probably monitor him for depression. See any notes on sleep and eating habits." Looking down, Wilson turned another page.

"Yeah, says here that since he's been there, he's only eaten half a meal a day and slept almost eighteen hours…"

"Did they give him any medications?"

"No… it also says that he's not talkative and withdrawn. They even wrote that he was crying in his sleep." He paused, the cursive swimming before his eyes. "The nurse I talked to said that they didn't have any group therapy sessions or specific rehab programs. You were right House, he's blind and depressed, and they haven't done a single thing to help. If anything, he'll get worse staying here." He stared in utter disbelief at the file and then into the room at the sleeping form on the bed. "We have to do something. Move him to another center or something. And soon."

"I know. Talk to Cameron but don't tell her what we know. Just ask her questions about his condition."

"House, I don't want to frighten her. She's fragile enough now. She's been through a lot these past months. If she wasn't depressed herself, she would have noticed this. I telling her this kind of information would send her over the edge."

"I know… That's why we need more information. So we can help Chase… and Cameron." Wilson swallowed hard. "Okay… but I'm not pushing for answers." He paused, about to hang up when a thought came to his head and he brought the phone back up to his ear. "House..?"

"What Wilson?"

"How did you know to look?" Another long and uncomfortable silence passed as Wilson cradled the phone to his ear, waiting.

"I didn't want her to be damaged any more than she already has been…"

"But how did you know?" Wilson pressed his ear harder to the phone as if the pressure would make House give an honest answer

"I had a hunch."

Then there was a click and House was gone. Wilson closed the phone while placing the file back into the holder. He felt uneasy, like House was hiding something. Usually when House was being deceptive, Wilson didn't care. House had always lied to him but this felt different somehow. Why wouldn't he answer the question? He thought long and hard as he leaned against the wall.

_I had a hunch _he had said. A seemingly innocent answer. House had had hunches before and maybe he had sensed something was wrong. His answer made perfect sense if you weren't as close to the man as Wilson was. Over the years you learned to tell the differences in voice tone or body languages. You could pick up on the slightest changes in attitude. Now was one of those times and Wilson didn't believe he was telling the truth.

Giving up on guessing, Wilson looked at his watch. Cameron was due to show up any minute now so he stayed where he was and waiting, a single question still burning in the back of his mind and he whispered it to the empty air.

"Why are you lying?"


	4. Something is Wrong

She stared at the steaming cup of amber liquid that sat before her, purposely avoiding looking across the table at the oncologist who sat, drinking his coffee and watching her closely. She had been surprised to see him standing just outside Chase's room and did not know what to think when he had suggested a trip to the cafeteria.

Now, grateful for the change in routine, she braced herself for what he had to say to her. Several silent minutes passed as she poured cream into her coffee and watched it sink to the bottom and then billow up and out like the mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb, long tendrils of white licking the edges of the cup. _I can only pretend to be interested in your coffee for so long before he realizes I'm avoiding him. _She thought, hands gently curled around the Styrofoam that was warm from the hot, untouched liquid.

"You know, it's probably not that hot anymore."

There was laughter in his voice, but it was only a slight tease and she knew he wasn't trying to make her feel bad. Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze away from her cup and up to his face. Their eyes met and she could not for the life of her seem to break the connection that seemed to flow between both of their gazes. She stared into his eyes, eyes that were darker and more expressive than she last remembered. Her heart felt funny for reasons she could not explain. He swallowed, his facial expression lingering somewhere between nervousness and a sort of awe and spoke again quietly.

"It won't burn your mouth or anything…"

He trailed of as she looked deeper into his eyes. She thought that she saw a flicker of a shadow in them that sent a horrible wave of something she couldn't describe flowing through her chest. They both pulled away at the same time and the moment was lost, only a mere memory that flickered on the edge of fading into the background. Except she knew better than to think of it that way. Sneaking a glance over the table at him, she was surprised that he has chosen not to look back up yet. Now, the tables had turned and he was the one staring at his cup of coffee, which wasn't very convincing she noted. _He's avoiding my gaze. _She thought, watching as he shifted in his chair slightly, folding his napkin absentmindedly and eyes darting anywhere but near hers.

Disappointment filled her and she made a mental note to snap out of it. _You can't go back to the past. Can't do that again Cameron… _Her mind was reeling as she tried to push a whole host of unwanted feelings back into the empty parts of her mind where they had suddenly appeared from.

"Look, Allison. Cameron," He straightened his suit coat unconsciously as he spoke, still moving his eyes back and forth before finally looking down once more. "What happened… after the accident. I shouldn't have-"

A sudden movement in the hallway behind him caught her eye and she didn't hear the rest, it simply came out as a jumble of words making no sense as she looked past his head at a small stream of nurses surging down the hall. In her gut she felt something that jolted her body into action.

"James…" She held up her hand, to stop him, never taking her eyes off of the small pack of women running past the cafeteria doors. Wilson spun in his chair, glancing quickly behind him. Slightly annoyed, he turned back looking at her with a look of confusion.

"They're headed for _his _room." She barely felt the words slip through her lips as she pushed back her chair and hastily pushed it back under the table.

"Cameron, wha-?"

"Chase." It was all she could say, striding towards the door and turning back to look at him quickly, not sure if she was hoping he would come or not. He had gotten up and was already ten feet from her, eyes searching hers.

"It's probably not his room. There are plenty of other rooms down that hall. Plus, it's probably not even anything big. Someone probably just wants help getting something or going to the bathroom." He had reached her now, and took her hands in his. "It's okay Allison…" Backing up from him, she saw a slight hurt look flit across his face that was quickly replaced by a look of astonishment.

"No! No… I _know_ something's wrong." She backed up a few steps, feeling her hand slowly slip out of his before turning and bolting down the hall. Sounds grew distant and all she could hear was her own breath and the clicking of her heels. As she grew near the room her stomach suddenly flipped fast and her breath quickened. Breathless and panicked, the second she reached the door, her mind began to spin uncontrollably. The sound of footsteps barely reached her ears and the fact that Wilson's hand was on her shoulder almost didn't register as she stared numbly into the room which was indeed full of nurses. Her lips moved silently at first and she had to force out what she wanted to say through trembling lips.

"I told you something was wrong…"


	5. Scared and Sick

He should have trusted her instincts instead of questioning her and telling her it was al okay. It was a woman thing that he never really could understand.

"Intuition…" he murmured, surveying the scene before him carefully. Five or six nurses were all crowded in the tiny little room. They had been speaking in rushed and quiet tones so that the whole room had been buzzing, but now they were silent. He scanned the room, looking across each nurse's face suspiciously, trying to find any clue that would tell him what was going on. The pretty nurse with the nice cheekbones was to his right, looking at him with the expression of a puppy who had been caught tinkling on the carpet. _Gotcha. _he thought. But what exactly had he caught them doing?

A slight moan caught his attention and he turned towards it automatically, seeing the still form of Chase on the bed. The intensives appeared to be awake, his head turned towards the window on the back wall. He fell silent again, his head turning the other way so that Wilson could see his face. His eyes were closed and he looked pale under the lights. A small strangled cry arose from Cameron's throat and /he instinctively grabbed her arm to stop her from running to Chase's bedside.

"Let go!" she frantically cried, pulling away and making her way through the small crowd to the bed. Momentarily, his hand hovered where it had been, grasping at nothing but air. His mind seemed to be frozen and he couldn't manage to open his mouth. Fear, anger, confusion… His mind was reeling as he tried to focus and his hands shook. More silence passed before he unstuck his jaw, swallowed hard, and manage to somehow stammer a few words.

"What- is wrong with him?" Nobody answered. All eyes shifted in different directions except for that blond nurse who stared defiantly straight into his eyes.

"Oh! James, he's burning." a small frightened voice spoke up and his head snapped in Cameron's direction, spotting her leaning over the side of the bed. She was biting her lip, and looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

"What… is… wrong… with… him?" He breathed heavily, barely getting the words out through clenched teeth. Still trembling, he fumbled in his pocket for his phone, pulling it out and slamming it into his left hand. Slowly, and deliberately he raised it in the air for them all to see. "Tell me right now or I'll call the police." He paused, looking around while a warm, boiling sensation rose in his chest. "Tell me now!" He yelled louder this time, daring someone to ignore him.

Surprisingly, he still received no reply and flipped the phone open. It was not his intent to call the police but he needed to get answers. He stood, staring at the screen for a few moments then shut the phone again. "Out!" he ordered. They all obeyed, shuffling out quickly. Not surprisingly, Ms. Blond left last, giving him a shady look before exiting.

After making sure they were all gone, he quickly strode over to the bed. Cameron was stroking Chase's hair with her left hand and whispering words that he could not hear. In her right hand, she clutched the young doctors hand tightly. Chase's eyes were closed and he was white in the face. Wilson could tell by the shallow way he was breathing and the dampness of Chase's t-shirt that he was indeed running a fever. The Australian's hair was limp and sticking to his face as well and he was shivering. Tentatively, he reached out and laid his hand across the fellow doctor's forehead. He was definitely fighting some sort of infection and Wilson tried to put an estimate on how high of a fever Chase had. In his mind, he figured it to be at about 102 to 103 but without a thermometer, he couldn't tell for sure.

"I'm calling Cuddy and telling her to send an ambulance." He put his hand on Cameron's shoulder, glancing down at Chase who had opened his mouth and was weakly attempting to talk. Cameron looked down as well, kneeling on the ground and leaning closer to her fiancé.

"C-Cameron?" He asked in a raspy, confused voice. His eyes fluttered open for a second but he shut them quickly.

"I'm right here." She replied, pushing a few strands of blond hair from his forehead and kissing his cheek gently. "You're sick, but it'll be okay. We're going to get you out of here."

"Mmm," he mumbled. "I tried to call…" He trailed off. Talking appeared to be taking much of his strength.

"You tried to call me?" She leaned forward so she could hear him better, her hand gripping his tighter.

"Anyone…" Cameron inhaled sharply, disbelief in her voice as she steadied herself to continue the conversation.

"When?" She breathed heavily. "When did you try to call for someone? Last night?"

Chase nodded his head ever so slowly. "Headache…Tylenol…"

"Did the give you any?"

He shook his head and winced. "Hurts…"

"Your head?"

"And…" He swallowed and grimaced, his hand going to his neck. Cameron took it gently in hers and guided it back to the bed.

"…his throat" They said it together softly as Chase managed another nod. Cameron had resumed stroking Chase's hair and had turned sideways so she could talk to him and Wilson.

"Don't talk if it hurts Chase." Wilson spoke up. He saw confusion fill Chase's face at the sound of a new voice. Blinking, Chase tried open his eyes once again and focus in his direction. With a pang of sadness, he could get a good glimpse of the dull, scarred eyes that had once been clear as a pool of water. It took him by a sort of surprise and at that moment, all he wanted to do was to close his eyes and open them to the way it had been before. He tried to block it out, but the image of Chase's former self still haunted him. Cameron looked at him anxiously, waiting for his guidance.

"I'm going to make that call." He muttered hastily. Looking across the room he grabbed a chair and helped her stand. He slid the chair by the bed and she sat in it, pulling it even closer to her fiancée's side.

"Okay…" she replied in a meek voice.

"I'll be right in the hall." He looked at her reassuringly. She nodded, turning back to Chase. "Call me if you need anything, anything at all."

The hall was eerily silent as he found his phone and was relieved to see that he had full service where he stood. As his fingers shook, he tried to dial a number he couldn't remember. Rubbing his forehead anxiously, he realized that all the numbers he needed were on his speed dials. Calming himself, he pressed four and held it down, watching the screen.

_Dialing Dr. Cuddy… _He held his breath. _Connecting… _He let it out slowly.

"Wilson, what's up?" Her voice never sounded so sweet as it did then and he opened his mouth, words spilling out in a rush. "Slow down… Are you okay? Where are you?"

He managed to collect himself, pacing as he spoke. "It's about Chase, we need an ambulance here and I need someone waiting for us when we get there…"


End file.
